Things We Can Never Have
by FullDarkNoLight
Summary: A short sort-of AU, that explores Olivia and Peter's life after season four. Canon divergence. Eventually a multi-chapter story. "They came so close to holding her in their arms."


**Hello fellow fringies! This is my overly depressing Polivia AU that hopefully doesn't suck. I just wanted to make a contribution to our fringe anniversary project. For now this is a Oneshot, but it will be extended into a full length story.. (Yay?) Anyways, enjoy.**

**Disclaimer: If I owned it, it would still be on.**

* * *

Peter reached for the bottle again, taking a swig from its crystal depths. This is what his life had become, one meaningless swirl of amber liquid. Everything he'd hoped for was gone, a family, a perfect life. With each sip the glass bottle made a satisfying swish, slowly draining. He was confined within his own mind, pretending that he couldn't hear his wife's broken sobs drifting into the living room. He was so filled with emptiness, and anger, yet still he couldn't force himself to move.

He was afraid that his body wouldn't work anymore, that perhaps his legs would betray him if he even tried to stand. So instead, he continued drinking, hoping that it would numb the ache in his heart. If only it was that simple… The whiskey did nothing but mask the pain with sickly warmth, putting a bandage over the gaping hole.

He slammed the bottle down, gently admiring the empty crystal with disdain. He'd finished his only remedy.

* * *

Olivia lay on the floor, her side pressed into the scratchy grey carpet. Her arms were wrapped around her middle, trying to cover up the place that had once been occupied by her daughter. She tried to fill the space, loathing the emptiness; but it did nothing.

She watched the shadow of the mobile dance across the walls, a dark contrast against the warm orange hue. The sparrows flew in circles with no child to entertain, stuck in a ceaseless motion. She remembered buying it, instantly falling in love with the brightly colored birds. Peter had smiled so brightly, every step so precious and cherished.

They'd been so happy, so prepared; after a long time they'd finally been ready. They had spent time imagining, just dreaming of what their child would be like. She'd been perfect, the little girl in their dreams; with ten tiny fingers and toes, and those sparkling blue eyes. Her laughter was a melodic rhythm, sweet and bubbly, bouncing off walls. Her footsteps were a light pitter-patter that sent warmth through the room. She was them, a perfect mix of both her parents, golden like the sun. She was everything they'd ever wanted; she brought them closer, initiating sweet murmurs of love and promises of protection. She brought with her this infectious joy, patching whatever holes they found in their lives.

Then somehow, the elation had turned to despair, all within minutes. One second Olivia had a living being within her, their perfect little girl, and then she was gone.

She longed to be whole again, to feel a flutter or a kick, anything. Now she felt so wrong; her own body was unfamiliar. The now flat plane of her stomach felt foreign, and out of place. How was it possible that they'd lost her? How could she have just, slipped away and out of reach?

Tears trickled from her heavy lidded eyes, her body shaking with sobs. She hadn't been able to save her… She'd failed her own child. She could see it in her husband's eyes, the broken disappointment, and the blame she knew she deserved.

Her daughter would never sleep in this room, the one that her and Peter had painted together. She would never go to school, fall in love, and become someone great. She was just a fleeting memory; the only reminders of her existence the empty crib and anguish in her parents' hearts.

They'd been so close, so close to holding her in their arms. Maybe if they'd held on a little longer, reached their arms out farther, they would've made it; but now they'd never know. They were nothing but moths in a jar, reaching ceaselessly for the beautiful light that they would never attain. Then someone would blow out the flame and they'd no longer have something to long for. They were confined within this sort of limbo, unable to move forward, ambushed in the dark corners of consciousness.

Olivia choked on a sob, pressing her palms together in front of her mouth. She didn't want to feel the cold isolation anymore; she needed her husband's arms to support her, and his words for comfort. If she couldn't have her daughter, couldn't she at least have him?

"Peter," she whispered, her voice barely audible. "Please, I'm sorry… I need you."

She called for him, trying to tell him that she needed him, that they had to get through this together; and in her voice he could hear all the longing, all the pain. He knew that he should have gone to her.

Instead he stood up, leaving the house with a sickening slam of the door. He hoped that the next bottle might just manage to send him into oblivion, and she wished he didn't blame her. Sadly, neither of them got what they hoped for that night. No matter how much he drank or how long she cried, they were still alone and without a daughter.


End file.
